Uncontrollable
by cloudsandsilvers
Summary: (Set during the Reichenbach Fall right after Molly's and Sherlock's talk) Molly was thinking about Sherlock as she cleans up after the duo left in the morgue. Her association with him was not easy and her life became a jumble of events as he entered her life. (Implied sherlolly if you squint)


Title: Uncontrollable

Fandom: Sherlock/Molly

Summary: (Set during the Reichenbach Fall right after Molly's and Sherlock's talk) Molly was thinking about Sherlock as she cleans up after the duo left in the morgue. Her association with him was not easy and her life became a jumble of events as he entered her life.

A/N: I know the plot is most likely overwritten already, but I want to give my own two-cents about it. So here it is!

P.S I apologize for wrong grammar, typos and other errors that I had overlooked

Enjoy the story~

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"_Are you ok? And don't just say you are, because I know what it means…Looking sad, when you think no one can see you."_

"_You can see me?"_

"_I don't count"_

The day is almost finished and Molly Hooper was arranging the last of the chemicals she had used for the day. The properly labelled jars are carefully placed on the storage room and she scanned the area if there were any missing ones. After checking everything, she decided to shut the door and organize the bodies that she hadn't finished working on yet in the mortuary.

She was tired and drained; slicing corpses is quite taxing and it seemed like there was an influx of bodies given to her this day. Aside from that, she had helped a consulting detective with his case, which requires patience and skill (since the detective would grill her for mistakes) which made the day bordering to being acidic. She bends her neck to ease the crick that formed there and thinks of taking a relaxing soak in her tub as she goes home for the day. As she passed by the table her frequent visitor uses whenever he's in the lab, she cannot help but think about him.

She was smitten as soon as she saw him. He came bursting in the morgue with Detective Inspector Lestrade, bringing with him an air of mystery, superiority, and brilliance that threw her out of her wit. It didn't help that he was good looking as well. He was tall and pale with his head full of dark and curly hair; He has cupid-bow lips that are used to deliver his almost always scathing remarks; and of course his icy blue eyes that can see through any façade you show. Her attraction just strengthened all the more as he frequented her morgue, deducing case after case with the help of her lab facilities.

Unfortunately this attraction seemed like it was obvious to everybody, all except the concerned party. Her feelings did land her to sticky situations and the most memorable one was when the higher ups of Saint Bartholomew's hospital had accused her of being too lenient to him with all of the facilities and bodies.

They said that she gives him body parts freely and that she lets him use the exclusive laboratory of the hospital. They were half right. Sherlock comes and goes to the morgue as he pleases and she gives him body parts that are to be disposed by the hospital. But she doesn't think that the offence was too grave, actually, she believes that her predicament was caused by a number of jealous doctors who hates him and wanted him (and, unfortunately, her too since she was with him most of the time) out of the hospital. She almost spouted some unkind and unprofessional things in front of her higher ups as she was berated but thankfully she had managed to stay quiet as they bad mouthed him and her _'work ethics and discipline'_ as what they had phrased it. After that, she went out of the office with her eyes glassy with tears of rage and despair.

She was in turmoil those days and she had switched to auto-pilot for a month or so - she was not exactly sure - but something must have happened for when she was on the verge of being fired, the charge against her was dropped. The higher-ups apologized to her and even told her that _'Mr. Sherlock Holmes is welcome to use the morgue and its amenities with you as much as he pleases'_ which made Molly confused and relieved at the same time.

She can only guess that it must be one of Sherlock's ploys to let her stay in the morgue so that he can use the lab and have body parts as he pleases. She shook her head and a small smile lightened her face. Yes, she knew of his ways, but she cannot help it. He was something else. She cannot explain it but Sherlock Holmes – and the people who was associated with him will attest – has something in him that makes him special aside from that fact that his deducing skills were superb and intellect was way above everyone else. Well, that was her reason every time she asks herself why she associates herself with Sherlock Holmes. There must be something great about the man for people to accept his rough and hurtful ways all the time. (Even if there are only a few of them who accept him) Nevertheless, accepting him was something uncontrollable on her part. She feels, in a weird sense, happy whenever she helps him or even just by being with him in the lab. (And she is sure that everyone he is always with can also attest to that albeit grudgingly)

The Christmas incident was proof of his insensitive comments to people friendly to him. His words were blade that cuts through her heart and each strike was painful. But of course she was used to him being that way. That was probably the reason why she didn't end up crying then and there as he scrutinized her body, her appearance and her gifts for them. But she can't help but think that she must have been hurt enough by him to say that she was used to it, can't say if she was happy about that, but nonetheless she still likes him (and she has a hunch that it was not just a simple 'like' or even an 'attraction' but she tries to never think about it) and she would be with him all the time, whenever he needs her.

She noticed a test tube that she had missed cleaning a while ago and picked it up. She worked her way to the nearby sink and preceded and washing it thoroughly. It has remnants of a solution Sherlock used to determine the different components of oil that came from a shoe of a kidnapper which would lead to her ex-boyfriend Jim.

She thought that Jim was sweet and kind. She really believed that they can work out in the long run. He showed her affection and attention, the two things that she wanted in her life. But of course he has to be a criminal mastermind. Well, that was just her luck in romance. She was never really lucky in that aspect of her life, especially now that Sherlock Holmes came in.

She finished cleaning the test tube and placed it with the other clean ones. The microscope that Sherlock used a while ago was still on and unplugged it. She remembers his face as he eagerly looked at the microscope earlier. Although he looked contemplative, she can't help but notice that he seemed troubled. So she decided to have a small and quick chat with him. She doesn't usually try to talk about him in a long conversation. Usually their conversations were brief, precise, and business. Needless to say, her heart was hammering as she ended up talking about her father and how alike they were. She also breached the subject of sadness, being okay, and being someone who counts. Looking back, she wanted to give herself a small pat in the back for being courageous enough to speak to him about it but at the same time she wanted to make herself fall into a hole as she feels her face flame in embarrassment.

She does not know what will come out of that chat, nor was she expecting some outcome from it. But she decided it's time for him to realize that she is human, not a thing that he can just use and that yes, she is willing to help him in any way she can even without the false flirting and compliments. As she told him that he looked sad whenever John was not looking; He looked away from the microscope to look at her with his brow furrowed and his eyes looking confounded. She can almost see his mind working and wondering how she can possibly read that from his face. The look urged her to continue saying what was on her mind.

If there was one good thing that came out from that encounter, it was she had urged Sherlock, _The_ Sherlock Holmes to thank her. That in itself is a feat with the fact that the man does not conform to how normal society acts as he is a self proclaimed sociopath; and the experience made her feel she had done the right thing. That thank you from him was something that she would look back fondly. But she fled as soon as he thanked her, she is not proud of it and yet she can't say that she regrets it. Sherlock might have thanked her, but that does not tell her what the consulting detective will say after his gratitude and by God, she can only take so much of his straight-forward deductions after she had practically told him that she is his to use. (After all, she opened up herself to Sherlock Holmes who would deduce and scrutinize her very being) When she came back, the duo was gone and left with a mess that she had to clean up. It was not something that was new to her so she does it without complaint.

"Molly, we're about to close the hospital. You better finish up quickly" A doctor from the next department called.

"Yes, I'll be done in a bit. Sorry" she replied back

The doctor nodded and closed the door. She shook her head and told herself to stop thinking about Sherlock and organize the bodies in the mortuary before she calls it day.

She heaves and carries bodies, organizing them by priority. She rolls the cadavers to and fro and writes last minute notes. The kind doctor from the next department came again thirty minutes after his warning. He tells her that she needs to close up by herself since they were already leaving. She just nodded and bid him farewell.

After looking through everything again, she decided that everything is fixed and organized properly. She went into her office and removed her lab coat. She grabbed her jacket and her bag and closed the lights as she headed out.

"You were all wrong"

A very familiar deep voice said. She gasped and hastily turned around.

Covered in darkness was Sherlock Holmes, he wasn't looking at her but she knows that something is bothering him.

"You do count, you've always counted and I've always trusted you" She froze and stared at him. Eyes wide open and mouth slightly agape. Never had she thought those words will be uttered by one Sherlock Holmes to her in such a truthful manner. Needless to say, her thought process stopped and in her chest she feels a warm blooming sensation.

"But you were right" He turned to look at her and she saw an emotion flicker in his eyes. Was it sadness? Desperation? "…I'm not okay" he continued

"Tell me what's wrong" she managed to say as her heart clenched at the sight of him being like this; being so meek and sad. It doesn't feel right.

"Molly I think I'm going to die" He said carefully as he walked towards her with his eyes straight at hers, almost pleading to her.

She held back a surprise squeak at as she heard the news. He was going to die? The warmth in her chest vanished and was replaced with icy dread. Her heart clenched more painfully.

"What do you need?" She asks as she feels that she must prevent his prophecy. She has to do something, anything in her power to prevent that.

"I wasn't everything you think I am, everything that I think I am" He said and walked towards her slowly "But you still want to help me" his brow briefly furrowed and looked at her intently.

She stared back at him, hoping that he can see that she was always there for him. That he could trust her "What do you need?" she asks again.

He stepped closer to her until they were one step apart. His eyes never left hers and now that he was closer, she sees something that made her heart hammer and clench at the same time. His eyes were saying that she was his only hope.

"You" He whispers, his eyes never leaving hers.

She takes a deep breath and accepts his plea of help with a nod. "I understand Sherlock"

Sherlock gave her a brief look of relief and gratitude as he squeezed her shoulders with his hand. He let go and proceeded in telling her his plans.

She listened intently as the warm feeling in her chest bloomed again. She will help him. She will help this brilliant but sometimes insufferable man in front of her because she believes in him. Because whatever may other people say, he is a great man and if there is a way to save him she will do it. After all, she can't let her friend (her heart whispers other words but she thinks otherwise) die right?

-end-

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A/N: Thank you for reading! I just noticed that my writing style has changed from the past years that I've written stories…owo well either way, I hope you all enjoyed it! I attempted to make Molly in character you see…but I don't know if I did it right. Also, I feel like the ending is a bit…hmm incomplete? Well anyway, feedbacks and criticisms are most welcome! ^^


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